“I love you, too.”
Megan’s first day with her first piano student in Riverton. A Juilliard hopeful. She nervously rearranged sheet music on the magazine rack, then turned to the piano. Light from the bay window bathed it in warmth, making the thin coating of dust visible. So much for cleaning yesterday.
She wiped down the piano, then gave the picture of Christ hanging over it another dusting for good measure. Moved the kitchen chair she’d placed beside the piano bench a fraction of an inch to the left.
I’m Sexy and I Know It blared from the speakers of her cell, making her jump.
“Hey, Trent. You changed your ringtone.”
“Just a reminder of why you love me. I wanted to call and wish you luck on your first piano lesson. Isn’t she coming soon?”
“About thirty minutes,” Megan confirmed, looking around the living room. There was nothing else to fix.
“Don’t worry. You’ll do great.”
“I don’t know why she wants me to teach her. She should be studying with a PhD.”
“She’s studying with you because you’re the best.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s gotta be it.”
“I’m going to pretend you aren’t being sarcastic. Hey, have you made an appointment with the new RE yet? I meant to ask you last night.”
Megan winced, running her fingers over the piano keys. She’d avoided thinking about the new reproductive endocrinologist as much as possible. “I kinda hoped you wouldn’t ask.”
Trent’s voice turned soft and soothing. “Is there something you aren’t telling me? I thought you’d be jumping to make this appointment, but we’ve already been in Riverton more than a week. You said you’d make the appointment last Monday.”
“Do we really have to talk about this right now?”
“I’d like to.”
Megan sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to be infertile again. Happy?”
“Babe, we never stopped being infertile.”
“I know.” Why did he have to be so logical? She perched on the edge of the piano bench. “But I didn’t feel infertile when we were on our break. I knew I wasn’t ovulating, so I never expected to get pregnant and wasn’t disappointed when my period started.”
“We’re here. We’re settling in. We have a house. Aren’t you ready for the next step?” His voice pleaded with her. “You know we’ll never get pregnant without help.”
She hated it when he was right. Megan angrily swiped her hand over the piano keys, causing them to play discordantly. Sometimes life sucked. “I’ll call and make the appointment today.”
“Do we need to talk about this? I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing anything.”
She wanted a baby so badly—was more than ready to be a mother. But she wasn’t ready for fertility treatments. Again. “You aren’t forcing me. I’ll call the new office right now.” She’d never be able to focus on Sienna’s lesson unless she did, now that she’d promised Trent.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll text you the appointment information.”
“Okay. Thanks for doing this for us, babe. I love you. And good luck with the lesson.”
“Love you too, Trent.”
Megan hung up and glared at her phone. It glared back.
“Fine,” she said. “You win. I’ll call the stupid doctor.” She scrolled through her contacts and found the number, pushing call before she could talk herself out of it.
A voice answered after one ring. “Center for Infertility and Reproductive Medicine. This is Natalie speaking. How may I help you?”
“Uh, hi.” The prompt answer threw her off. “My name is Megan Burke. I need to schedule a new patient consultation.”
“Burke . . . Burke . . .” Megan heard the click of a keyboard. “That’s right. Dr. Faulkner’s office in Logan forwarded all your files a few weeks ago. He spoke personally with Dr. Mendoza about your case.” A rustle of papers. “Dr. Mendoza said to get you in as soon as possible.”
“Great.” Megan didn’t know whether to be impressed with the personal treatment or depressed she needed special attention.
More clicking. “Your timing is excellent—I just had a cancellation. Dr. Mendoza has an opening on the twenty-third at ten o’clock. Does that work?”
“Of March?” That was a week and a half away. Megan had anticipated a wait of at least a month, maybe two.
“Yes. If that doesn’t fit your schedule, the next available appointment is April twenty-eighth at noon.”
For a split second, Megan considered taking the later appointment. Another month’s reprieve from the endless round of ultrasounds and medications sounded heavenly.
But then she pictured Trent holding a baby wrapped in a pink-and-blue striped hospital blanket. A tiny face smiled up at him in sleep. A baby was worth it. It would all be worth it. “No, March twenty-third works. Ten a.m., you said?”
And just like that, they were trying to have a baby again.
The roar of an engine stole her attention, and she stood, straightening the piano bench. A red Suburban pulled up to the curb outside her house. Megan’s breath hitched, and she wiped wet palms on her jeans. Time to switch gears. Right now was about piano, not infertility.
The doors to the Suburban flew open, and two little boys tumbled out, practically on top of each other. A woman emerged from the driver’s side. Her short, honey-colored hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush since morning. She grabbed an arm of each child, her face scrunched together as she spoke to them. They bowed their heads in apparent contrition and walked ahead of their mother toward the front door. A girl who could only be Sienna rounded the front of the SUV and followed behind the woman. She was of average height and slender, with long blonde hair that flowed around her shoulders.
Megan’s stomach lurched as the doorbell rang. “Stay calm,” she reminded herself. Loud pounding started and abruptly cut off. Megan opened the door as the woman caught a little boy’s hand mid-air, apparently poised to knock again. Her other hand held tightly to the other child’s.
“Hi,” Megan said, making her voice purposefully light. “You must be the McBrides. I’m Megan Burke.”
The woman glanced at the little boy who had tried to knock, then dropped his hand and held hers out to Megan, giving it a quick shake. “I’m Annabelle McBride. Sorry I had to bring the twins today. I was hoping to come alone, but my husband got caught late at work.” She nodded toward the girl standing next to her. “This is Sienna.”
“It’s nice to meet everyone. Please, come in.” Megan stood back, and they entered.
Sienna gave Megan a nervous smile, looking every bit as young as Megan knew her to be—only seventeen. “Hi, Mrs. Burke. Thank you so much for taking me on as a student.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
One of the twins bent down near the baseboard and flicked the door stopper. Boing!
Annabelle rushed forward. “Connor, don’t play with that.”
The lights flicked off, and the living room grew dim as the overcast March sky became their only light.
“Cameron, turn the lights on right now,” Annabelle said.
“No!”
“Cameron—”
The lights flicked on, and Cameron ran across the living room to the magazine rack holding the sheet music Megan had so laboriously straightened. He grabbed a piece and flung it to the floor. Megan flinched.
“Cameron!” Annabelle left Connor to play with the door stopper and rushed to Cameron, putting the sheet music back on the rack. Cameron started crying. Annabelle reached down and picked him up, then turned to Megan as though nothing was wrong. “You come highly recommended,” she said.
“Remind me again how you found me?” Megan asked. And why did Anabelle think Megan was qualified to prepare Sienna for Juilliard?
“Sienna heard you play at a wedding reception a few months ago,” Annabelle said. “Landon and Alizabeth Burke. Sienna’s friends with Alizabeth’s younger s
ister.”
“Of course,” Megan said. “Landon’s my nephew.”
Cameron let out a scream, wiggling free from Annabelle. He darted over to his brother. Boing! They were both playing with the door stopper now.
“I’ve never heard someone play with so much emotion.” Sienna blushed as though she was embarrassed to admit it. “My piano professor is great at technique, but I want to learn how to play with feeling like you.”
“Wow,” Megan said. Boing! It took a lot of effort to avoid looking at the twins. “I’m flattered.”
“Sienna just got back from her live audition for Juilliard,” Annabelle said.
“That’s great, Sienna,” Megan said.
“Connor, don’t you dare touch that!” Annabelle yelled. Connor stood on top of the piano bench, leaning toward the framed picture of Christ. Megan held her breath, waiting for the painting to come crashing down. Annabelle pulled Connor to the floor. “You know you aren’t supposed to do that. Cameron, if I tell your brother no, that means no for you, too.” A twin in each hand, Annabelle dragged them toward the front door. “Sorry about this. I’ll pick Sienna up in an hour, without the twins. We can talk more then.”
“I look forward to it.” Megan tried not to show her relief as she shut the door behind them. Her house wasn’t made for twins.
Sienna clutched the strap of her music bag, her face red. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Burke. The twins are crazy. I told Mom I could drive myself, but she was worried I wouldn’t find your house on my own.”
“Please, call me Megan. Mrs. Burke makes me feel like an old woman.” Megan motioned to the piano. “I thought we could start with some scales.”
Sienna sat obediently, dropping her bag on the floor next to her. She adjusted the piano bench, then took up position, hands poised over the keys. “What would you like me to start with?”
“C major, both hands, and go from there.”
Sienna worked her way up to F minor, her scales flawless and quick. Megan smiled, pleased as Sienna finished the last scale.
“Excellent,” Megan said. “Now play me the piece you’ve been working on with your piano professor.”
Sienna didn’t pull out any sheet music, and Megan’s smile grew as she played Beethoven’s Concerto Number Five from memory. About halfway through she stumbled, and the rest of the piece was choppy, but Megan’s smile didn’t sag.
Sienna played the last note. She turned to Megan, her expression unsure. “I know it’s not great. I just finished memorizing the piece, and am working on perfecting it.”
“It was beautiful. I think your odds of being accepted to Juilliard are fantastic if you played like that at the audition.”
Sienna’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really. Now pull out the sheet music for the concerto. We’ve got work to do.”
When Christina walked into her classroom Monday morning, it felt like coming home. She was happy here, and so were her students. This is where she felt most at ease. Christina flipped on the lights, breathing fully for the first time since leaving on Friday afternoon.
It had been two weeks since the fateful dinner with Elauna and Alexander. Two weeks, and all Gary and Christina had done was pretend their fight had never happened.
When had everything changed? While dating, Gary had been the perfect boyfriend. He’d brought Christina flowers at least once a week. He let her pick the movie. He told her to order whatever she wanted at restaurants. They had stayed up long past when they should have, talking for hours about everything and nothing. Communication had flowed. Now everything felt impossibly hard.
Christina was writing some simple equations on the whiteboard for the morning lesson when her desk phone rang. “Mrs. Vincent’s room,” she answered.
“Hi, Christina.” It was Linda, the front desk secretary. “I figured you’d be in already. Principal Gardner wants to see you in his office.”
A shiver of nerves shot down Christina’s spine. She ran over her last few weeks of teaching. Nothing unusual had happened—no problems with students or upset parents. She had received her evaluation back from Principal Gardner with high praise. There was nothing bad to warrant a trip to his office. Hopefully that meant it was something good. “Is everything okay?”
Linda laughed as though Christina had made a joke. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Christina blushed. Now Linda would think she’d done something to be ashamed of. “Of course. Tell him I’ll be right down.”
Three minutes later Christina paused outside the office door. The silver plaque beside it read Principal Dayton Gardner in all caps. She took a deep breath and knocked. “Come in,” the principal said.
Principal Gardner was middle-aged, with thick salt-and-pepper hair. He was of average height and average weight. Average in pretty much every way. The only thing intimidating about him was his job title and PhD. Principal Gardner didn’t stand when Christina entered, but the smile on his face calmed her nerves. “Christina, sit down please.” He motioned to a chair. “Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble.”
Christina pretended to laugh, but it came out shaky. “That’s a relief. What can I do for you?”
He leaned forward, elbows on the edge of his desk and fingers steepled. “I have a proposition. The district wants us to introduce an after-school program for at-risk students. The curriculum will include education on bullying, suicide prevention, that sort of thing. We’ll do it on a trial basis through the end of the year, and if it’s successful, the district will introduce the program in all elementary schools next year.”
Christina’s eyebrows rose.
“With your minor in child psychology, I thought you’d be perfect for the job. I already spoke to Trista.” Trista Goodryn taught fourth grade. “She’s agreed to be one of the co-chairs. I’d like to offer you the other position. You’d meet with the kids for an hour after school on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Of course you’d get a pay increase too. Not substantial, but it’s something.”
More opportunity. More respect. More time teaching. Christina didn’t have to think twice. “I’ll do it.”
Principal Gardner blinked. “You can talk it over with your husband first.”
Gary. Christina hadn’t even considered his reaction to this. He wouldn’t like it, but why should he get to make this decision for her? Her students needed her. And Christina needed teaching. She loved how her students looked at her with near hero-worship. She loved Michael’s victory shout last week, when he finished his first chapter book without any help. She loved watching Sarah’s shy smile give way to excited chatter as the year progressed and Christina gained her trust. Helping at-risk students would be even more rewarding because they needed the help so badly.
Principal Gardner stared at Christina, his eyebrows raised in question. Christina blushed. She had taken too long to answer. “My husband will be fine with it, I’m sure.” The program wouldn’t take too many extra hours. She’d still be home before him. If Christina explained it right, Gary would get on board. If he wasn’t home in the late afternoons, why did she need to be?
“Great.” Principal Gardner pulled out a folder. “I had Linda get all the information together on the off chance you’d agree. You and Trista have free rein, as long as you follow the district guidelines.”
Christina took the folder, leafing through it. Her eye caught on the pay raise. Principal Gardner was right—it wasn’t a lot. But she hadn’t taken the job for the money. “Thank you. I’ll email Trista so we can get started.”
“We want the program up and running by the first week of April. You have two months to make it a smashing success.”
“No pressure,” Christina murmured.
Principal Gardner smiled and stood. Christina rose as well.
“I’m sure you two will do great,” Principal Gardner said. “I have every confidence in your abilities.”
“Thank you.” Christina shook his hand and left, the file folder clutched against her chest. Back in her
room, she sent a quick email to Trista, asking when they could meet. As Christina hit send, Stacey walked into the room.
“Hey, Stacey. How was your weekend?”
“I had my first experience with morning sickness.” Stacey flopped into a chair near Christina’s desk. “It sucked. T.J. made fried chicken for dinner on Sunday because I love fried chicken. He started cooking it, and the smell made my stomach churn. And I thought ‘that’s weird’ and sprawled on the couch until dinner was done. I took one bite of chicken and bam, I was puking.”
Christina’s fingers curled around the computer mouse. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She would give anything to experience morning sickness.
“I barely made it to work on time today. I can tell you’ve been here for a while already, as usual. You’re like the most dedicated teacher I know. Were you coming back from the front office?”
“Yes. Principal Gardner asked me to co-chair an after-school program with Trista.”
Stacey’s eyes widened. “I hope you said no. Gosh, don’t we spend enough time in this place? I love teaching, but they don’t pay us nearly enough for all the time we put in.”
Christina frowned. Teaching wasn’t about the money. It was about the kids. “I think the program will really help at-risk students. I said I’d do it.”
“You’re joking. I mean, what will Gary say? I can’t wait to go home and see T.J. at the end of every day.”
Had Gary and Christina ever been like that? The early days of their marriage, when leaving for school each morning had been painful, seemed like another lifetime. “Gary’s gone most evenings, so the program won’t interfere with our time together. He’s putting in a lot of hours at work right now. And besides, we’ve been married almost five years. After you and T.J. have been married a while, you’ll start to have lives apart from each other again.”
“I hope not.” Stacey made a face. “Wouldn’t that suck? The whole reason we got married in the first place was to be together. If we ever get to the point where we want to do things without the other, that means our marriage is in trouble.”
Was Stacey right? Christina shook her head to clear it. Of course not. It was normal for a married couple to have separate interests and hobbies. Healthy. “Just wait a few years. Things will be different.”
Chasing Someday Page 6
